


Feed Me Lies

by odietamo53



Series: Drabbles [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Jealousy, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2013-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-30 16:32:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1020901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odietamo53/pseuds/odietamo53
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Except he realizes he’d stumbled into Zayn’s bedroom and feels like that unconscious gesture is too much to ignore. Breaking a little, he crawls onto the messy bed, reeking of Zayn’s designer body wash and coconut shampoo. It’s heady and he can feel Zayn’s lips pressed to his throat, the way his facial hair scrapes against Harry’s skin, leaving it raw and burnt.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feed Me Lies

It hurts, but he’s pretty great at holding it in, hiding it despite how expressive everyone thinks he is. He’s staring hard at the ceiling, head tilted back, like the tears welling up in his eyes will absorb and no one will ever know, no one ever needs to know. He’s used to sharing, among the five of them nothing had ever been one persons’, not clothes or homes or beds or even people. 

When someone came into the group, a girl or guy that one of the trusted and liked enough to date, any of them could have a taste. Louis and El had a penchant for letting Niall into the bedroom, Harry had once slept with Nick while Liam and Louis sat on a couch and watched. Harry was a fucking pro at sharing. So why did he suddenly balk every time someone slipped an arm around Zayn. Every time Louis’ lips pressed to that dark, tanned skin. Every time Liam giggled so hard he buried his face in Zayn’s chest. Every time Niall bummed along to share a secret cigarette with Zayn.

Why was he standing here now, willing himself not to cry, because Zayn’s tipsy and sandwiching himself between Niall and some fucking blonde with legs for miles, legs she dared to wrap around his waist. He had to walk away or he’d shut the music off, he’d shut the music off and switch on the lights and yell for everyone to get out, party over, just leave. 

His hands are twisting so hard around one another that his wrist hurts. He lets out a shaky breath and tries to laugh it off. Maybe he’d had more to drink than he realized and he’s just being emotional. Except he realizes he’d stumbled into Zayn’s bedroom and feels like that unconscious gesture is too much to ignore. Breaking a little, he crawls onto the messy bed, reeking of Zayn’s designer body wash and coconut shampoo. It’s heady and he can feel Zayn’s lips pressed to his throat, the way his facial hair scrapes against Harry’s skin, leaving it raw and burnt. His fingers are rough and he uses his nails when he grips Harry’s hips and thrusts down against him. 

Harry gasps and shoves his trousers and pants down his thighs, tears almost springing to his eyes in his rush to get them off. “Fuck,” he snaps, getting a hand around himself and pulling hard, needed that hot white hurt to course through to his bones.

Zayn would push his thighs apart so wide he would cry out against the stretch. God, Zayn would lean all his weight onto him, smirk as he pressed three fingers in right away, letting Harry bite down on his free hand to silence himself. But right now he’s probably busy stretching that blonde bitch’s cunt to its limit.

“Could have invited me to the party in my own room.” The voice is everything Harry wants to hear right now and he moans, taking a moment to figure out if it was real or some fucked up figment of his imagination. 

But Zayn’s approaching the bed with a smirk, shirt already half unbuttoned and working it the rest of the way. Harry’s off the bed before he knows what he’s doing, shoving Zayn back against the door and wrapping fingers around his throat. “Did you fuck her?”

“What? No, she went with Niall,” Zayn replies, tilting his head back so Harry has better access to his skin.

“Tell me you did.”

“What?” Zayn looks slightly thrown off, like he’s not sure what game this is anymore.

“Tell me you fucked her.” Harry’s biting down hard on his collarbone, enough to know Zayn’s choking back a pained noise. 

“I-I fucked her. She rode me so hard I saw stars when I came. Best lay of my life.” Harry’s palm cracked against Zayn’s cheek with a resounding crack and he barely gave him time to recover, throwing Zayn back onto the bed and straddling his hips. 

“You’re a dick,” Harry said, grinding his hips down onto Zayn’s jean clad crotch. Harry could tell he was hard, but he wasn’t going to give him relief, he was going to take what he wanted and let Zayn feel it just enough to make him want, beg.

Zayn’s eyes were bright as Harry grabbed a fistful of hair and forced his head back, scraping teeth down all the skin he could reach. His hips bucked hard, Zayn’s jeans rough against his dick, too rough to be comfortable, but Harry was so riled up it wasn’t going to matter. Zayn’s hands held tight to his waist, not stopping him but needing to feel him and that was enough. Harry came across the front of Zayn’s shirt, just hitting him on his half exposed chest. Without thinking, Harry swiped a finger through it and pressed his finger to Zayn’s lips until he took it in, sucking it clean. 

“You’re gonna be mine, just mine,” Harry whispers and Zayn hears it, feels it. Zayn’s nails dig into his hips and Harry knows it’s agreement, he bites hard at his lip and releases a long held sigh of relief. Zayn could have said no. Zayn could have told him he’s supposed to share. Zayn could have said a lot of things but he didn’t. Zayn could have said no but he’s kissing Harry, he’s kissing Harry so hard Harry knows he’s been waiting for his for a long, long fucking time.


End file.
